


Where We Start

by ellerkay



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crying, Cunnilingus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Healing Sex, Telepathy, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14223855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: Stephen finds healing with a practitioner at Kamar-Taj who specializes in magical sex.A sort of non-traditional character/reader story.





	Where We Start

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. I am not a writer of character/reader stories. I've read some, but not a ton. After _Doctor Strange_ came out, I was overwhelmed with h/c feelings and searched for a "reader comforts Stephen" kind of scenario, without success. So, I've finally finished writing my own. BUT, I don't write in second person - this is third-person limited from Stephen's perspective - and as aforementioned, I don't know much about the tropes of character/reader stories. I'm not sure if the "reader" character is kind of too developed for this to be a good character/reader story, which is why I tagged this as Stephen/OFC, too.
> 
> However, the idea with this is to provide a story in which one could imagine oneself as the healer character, if one is so inclined (which is why she remains unnamed). I hope it's successful and/or that it provides enjoyment for anyone who cares to give it a try. Thank you for bearing with me in this weird experiment!

Stephen was getting distracted.  
  
It was only natural, he supposed; he hadn’t had sex since before the accident. At first there was the pain, and the opiods didn’t help his sex drive. After he had begun to heal, he’d been too obsessed with fixing his hands to care about sex.  
  
But now, it had been a long time. He finally had something productive to focus on, rather than endless, frustrating dead ends…and it had been so _long_. He couldn’t even get himself off properly. His hands were too weak and stiff to curl into the right shape for long. He would try, but after a few frustrating minutes he would end up rutting against a pillow. It was enough to get off, especially with enough time in between sessions, but it was difficult and unsatisfying. And his need to come properly, to see and touch a partner and hear their noises of pleasure, was beginning to distract him from his studies.  
  
There was another practitioner at Kamar-Taj who was starting to be a specific source of distraction. He wasn’t entirely sure why; they hadn’t exchanged more than a few minutes’ conversation. But she seemed kind, and she had an inviting smile. Stephen would have tried to get something started already, but it occurred to him he wasn’t even sure how this sort of thing worked at Kamar-Taj.  
  
“What are your policies on fraternization?” he asked the Ancient One, over tea one day after their lessons.  
  
Her eyes, which always seemed slightly to be laughing at him, now positively danced with mirth over the rim of her cup. “Fraternization?” she repeated.  
  
Stephen glared at her. “I’m not trying to make trouble. Many religious orders have rules about chastity.”  
  
“We’re not a religious order, Stephen.”  
  
“I know that,” he snapped. “I only meant – oh, never mind.”  
  
The Ancient One put down her teacup, smiling. “The only rule is that all parties be consenting.”  
  
Stephen nodded, trying not to let his relief show on his face.  
  
“Of course, for some practitioners, a period of abstinence is encouraged or even required, if they are new, or studying some particular magic,” the Ancient One continued.  
  
“Oh,” Stephen said, frowning.  
  
The Ancient One watched him for a moment with her enigmatic smile. “Who is it you’re interested in?” she asked casually, taking a sip of her tea.  
  
Stephen considered lying, but he was quickly learning that that Ancient One had an uncanny gift for reading people. He named the woman in question.  
  
“Ah.” The Ancient One nodded. “Of course, you’d be drawn to her.”  
  
“Why’s that?”  
  
“Those who need her help often are. She specializes in healing.”  
  
Stephen curled his hands into tight fists, despite the pain. “Healing? You said you could only teach me to heal myself. All this time – “  
  
“Emotional healing, Stephen,” the Ancient One said gently. “Of course, that is ultimately yours to find for yourself, as well. But she is a skilled facilitator.”  
  
“So she’s, what, a psychiatrist?” Stephen didn’t bother to hide his disdain. Psychiatry was a soft science.  
  
“While I imagine she probably engages in some conversation, she primarily heals through sex magic.” The Ancient One took another sip of tea.  
  
Stephen stared at her for a beat, then recovered himself and looked away. “Well, I suppose that means she won’t be able to help me.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“You said novices have to be abstinent.”  
  
“I said we often encourage it. It’s only so the energy can be focused elsewhere. In your case, you have plenty of focus. In fact, you’re arguably _too_ focused, and prone to obsession. I would say that some activity outside your studies could be good for you.”  
  
“I don’t require emotional healing.”  
  
“No?”  
  
Stephen hated those bland, utterly polite questions at which the Ancient One so excelled. “My studies have helped enormously in clearing my mind and allowing me to move forward.”  
  
“Well, there’s no reason you have to seek her out. Or any other, for that matter. But you wanted to know the rules, so, now you know them.” She smiled, and changed the topic of conversation to a book he’d been reading.  
  
Stephen resolved to put the whole matter out of his mind; or, barring that, to find a partner without special skills. It would be a waste of the practitioner’s talents, in any case.  
  
***  
  
The resolution did not last. Over the next few weeks, Stephen found that his desires and focus were getting worse, not better. His awkward attempts at masturbation left him grumpy and dissatisfied, even when he managed to achieve an orgasm. He was having trouble taking in what he read, and he couldn’t master any new spells. Worse, he seemed to actually be reverting. He’d learned dimensional gateways some time ago, but a day came when he was so distracted trying to look at the woman he was interested in from the corner of his eye that he couldn’t even conjure one.  
  
This would not do. Obviously, he was attracted to this woman, and if she was willing, he had to get it out of his system. He no longer cared if she wanted to try and work some kind of emotional healing on him in the process. He didn’t think it would have an effect anyway; what harm could it do? Anything had to be better than this constant need.  
  
But how to approach her? Even if he had any money, it wasn’t as though there was a nice restaurant nearby where he could invite her for a date. And it was hard to figure out the social niceties in a place where abandoning someone on Mount Everest was an acceptable teaching technique. Finally, he decided to just speak with her, and see where it led.  
  
The next evening, seeing her leave the dining room after she’d finished her meal, Stephen swallowed the last of his food and followed her. Luckily, the hall was empty.  
  
“Excuse me,” he called, from a few paces behind her. She didn’t react, and he hurried to catch up with her, touching her shoulder when he reached her.  
  
She jumped and turned, removing earbud headphones from her ears as she did. Stephen heard the music, the source of her deafness, and smiled slightly.  
  
“‘Galileo,’ Indigo Girls, from Rites of Passage, 1992,” he said. “Seems an appropriate choice, given the setting.”  
  
She smiled. “It centers me,” she said.  
  
She waited, and Stephen began to regret his ‘see where it led’ plan.  
  
“How are you this evening, Dr. Strange?” she asked, after he let the silence go on a little too long trying to think of what to say.  
  
“Stephen,” he said. “Fine. How are you?” Good lord, was he in junior high school again?  
  
“Well, thank you.” She waited again. Stephen flailed internally. “Was there something you needed?”  
  
_Oh, yes._ “I, er…I understand that you have…some special knowledge,” he said. “Uh, a particular set of skills.”  
  
“Are you quoting Liam Neeson?” she asked, a hint of a smile on her lips.  
  
“Not on purpose.” Stephen ground his teeth. “I was told that sometimes people are…drawn to you.”  
  
“ _Oh_.” Understanding dawned on her face and she took a half step towards him, extending her hand slightly but stopping before she actually touched him. “And you’re – “  
  
“Yes.” It came out in a hard exhale, and Stephen cursed the desperation that was making him act like such a fool. He grabbed her outstretched hand, intertwining their fingers, and pressed it to his mouth, only realizing what he was doing when his lips met her skin.  
  
Stephen looked down at his scarred flesh next to her smooth skin and hastily let her go. But she made no move to withdraw. After a second, her hand settled light as a butterfly on the side of his face.  
  
“If you’d like, you could come to my rooms tomorrow evening,” she said quietly. “Say, seven-thirty?”  
  
“Yes,” Stephen said, his voice sounding odd and strained to his ears. He cleared his throat, trying to get control over it. “Yes. Thank you.”  
  
Her expression was warm and sympathetic. “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”  
  
Somehow, Stephen didn’t think she just meant since he’d had sex, although he would have been hard put to say what else she was implying.  
  
“I…suppose it has,” he said.  
  
She stood on her tiptoes, and Stephen thought she was going to kiss him. He closed his eyes, desire flooding him, but she only pressed her lips gently to his cheek.  
  
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Stephen,” she said softly, and smiled at him, and then turned and walked away down the hall, resettling her headphones in her ears.  
  
***  
  
Stephen was buzzing with anticipation the next day; so much so that he finally told the Ancient One he had a headache and couldn’t concentrate. It was half true, at any rate. He kept trying to catch a glimpse of the practitioner he was meeting without actually looking at her. She seemed to be intent on her work. Once, in the courtyard, they passed near each other, and she smiled up at him. She smiled at everyone she passed, although Stephen thought there was a quirk to her lips that he hadn’t seen from her before. But that was all, if it was anything.  
  
Once he’d retired to his room, Stephen tried to read. Two books couldn’t distract him, but a third finally caught his interest, and he read until dinner.  
  
He ate lightly. It wouldn’t make sense to be too full tonight, and anyway, his stomach was fluttering. It was excitement, of course, not nerves. He had never had trouble pleasing a woman. It had been awhile, yes, and nothing since the accident, but he wasn’t a teenager anymore. It would be fine. _Good_. It would be good.  
  
Stephen debated whether it would seem desperate if he wasn’t at least a few minutes late, but finally decided it would be worse to seem rude, so he knocked on her door promptly at seven-thirty.  
  
She opened the door immediately. Stephen thought she must be fresh from the baths; she was flushed in a wildly appealing way, and her hair still looked a little damp. Stephen stifled the urge to run his fingers through it. She wore a silk kimono-style robe, belted at her waist. It covered her almost completely, except for a little triangle of décolletage, and he couldn’t tell if she had anything on underneath.  
  
“Stephen, come in,” she said, smiling warmly. Stephen entered the room and looked around. It was rooms, he realized immediately; he had entered what she had made into a small living room, with a loveseat, chair, and very small table between them. A narrow bookcase also served as an altar – perhaps – at any rate, it was covered in crystals and candles. There were some pictures and hangings on the wall.  
  
“I didn’t know Kamar-Taj had suites,” he said. She grinned.  
  
“It’s just this and the bedroom,” she replied. “The Ancient One realized I might receive more guests than many practitioners here, and so she let me have some extra space. Please, sit. Tea?”  
  
Stephen sat on the small couch. “Please.” Anything to occupy his hands and mouth. He wanted this to start, but not before she wanted it, too. He watched her pour the steaming tea into the little cups. “I think it would be more acceptable here to break a law of magic than to fail to offer a guest tea.”  
  
She laughed as she handed him a cup. She settled down on the other side of the loveseat, which left her only a foot or so away from Stephen. “I just really like tea,” she said. She took a sip, and silence fell for a moment.  
  
“I should say,” Stephen started. “While I don’t disparage or disbelieve in your abilities, you don’t need to waste them on me.”  
  
She looked very serious. “I would never practice on someone without their consent.”  
  
Stephen shook his head. “It’s not that. I don’t mind you trying, if you like. I just don’t think it’ll work.”  
  
She cocked her head inquisitively. “Oh?”  
  
He shrugged. “I don’t think I have much emotional pain left. Yes, it was very bad for awhile, but since coming to Kamar-Taj, I’ve found new hope, and study and practices which occupy me quite thoroughly.”  
  
She put her teacup back on the little table. “I see,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m glad to hear it. But, surprised.”  
  
“Why should that surprise you?” Stephen didn’t expect his voice to take on such an edge, but luckily, she seemed unoffended.  
  
“That much trauma, and so relatively little time to heal…I can only imagine the fear and pain of the accident, in the early days, and the horror when you realized what your injuries would mean for your life’s work. And then, all the surgeries, all the searching…That kind of pain doesn’t usually just go away when you get distracted.”  
  
Stephen stared at her, at her kind eyes, a lump in his throat. As she spoke, he remembered those terrible months so clearly.  
  
“One can’t live in the past,” he said, voice thick.  
  
“No,” she agreed. “But healing its wounds is an important part of moving forward.”  
  
Stephen swallowed and blinked hard, willing back the tears that stung his eyes. Honestly, this was ridiculous…She was taking his teacup from his hands, and he stared at it as she placed it on the table. He’d forgotten he was holding it. She put her hand on the side of his face, just as she had the evening before, and as Stephen turned into it he felt warm, and raw, and full of need, and like her touch was the only thing that could make it better.  
  
“Would you like to go to the bedroom?” she asked, and he nodded, rising as she rose and following her.  
  
Like her reception room, the bedroom had a few pictures and silk hangings on the wall. There was another small bookshelf with crystals and candles. She walked to it and, picking up a box of matches, struck one. She began touching it to the wicks.  
  
“You can take off some clothing, if you’d like,” she said. She looked over her shoulder at him, smiling slyly. “Or all of it. Or, none. As much as you’re comfortable with.”  
  
Stephen started undressing, deciding to keep his pants on, for now. For her comfort, he told himself, but he knew he lied. It was his own feeling of vulnerability which made him want to keep covered up. This wasn’t what he had been expecting. He had planned to flirt, to tease, to joke. He had expected to be in control; more or less, anyway. That didn’t seem to be the case at all, and it threw him.  
  
He watched her. She had lit her candles and now stood still in front of the altar. After a moment, she sighed and turned around, a contented smile on her lips. The smile deepened when she saw him, her eyes flickering over his bare chest, and Stephen’s cock twitched at the look of desire. He’d _missed_ this…  
  
She was loosening the sash around her robe. “Wait,” Stephen said – it came out in almost a gasp – and he quickly covered the few steps between them, putting his hands on hers to stop her.  
  
“Let me,” he said. “Please.”  
  
Her hands dropped away, and he fumbled with the knot, cursing his useless fingers mentally until he got it started. He made quick enough work of it, then, and the robe fell open.  
  
She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Stephen pushed the robe off her shoulders, and then put his hands on her hips, sliding them around to her back and stepping in close until their bodies were flush. He leaned down to her, finally, his mouth meeting hers in a hot, desperate kiss. His cock sprang to attention and he groaned against her lips.  
  
She met his need, kissing him back with passion, one hand at the nape of his neck, the fingers of her other hand in his hair. The kiss went on, and on, and Stephen didn’t want it to ever stop. But finally he pulled back, panting, and drew her to the bed.  
  
He didn’t have to ask her to lie down; she did it herself, seeming to know what he wanted, and for a moment he just drank in the sight of her greedily. She looked back at him, patient and quiet, then finally smiled.  
  
“Are you going to stand there all night?” she asked pertly. Stephen grinned.  
  
“Not a chance,” he said, and crawled onto the bed. He kissed her again, long and hard, and then he began exploring her body with his lips and tongue, not just neck and breasts but skimming over her arms, calves, inner thighs. He listened for her sighs and moans, of which there were plenty; she was responsive, and she was enjoying herself, unless she was an exceptionally good actress.  
  
As he neared her mouth again, she took his face in her hands and kissed him fiercely. “You can touch me,” she murmured.  
  
“Haven’t I been?” he said, smiling, ignoring the anxious thumping of his heart.  
  
“With your hands, I mean,” she said, looking right into his eyes. Stephen grimaced and sat back on his heels. He put his hands – ugly and scarred – out in front of his body and examined them.  
  
“I thought I’d spare you too much of them,” he said. “They’re…clumsy now, and rough, due to the scar tissue.”  
  
“They’re beautiful,” she said. Stephen rolled his eyes, but she had taken his right hand and placed a kiss on his palm. His heart thumped even faster, and something in him twisted painfully.  
  
“Don’t,” he said, but it was breathy, barely a whisper, and he found he couldn’t pull away as she kissed the pads, the tips of his fingers, sucked his middle finger into her mouth for an instant, rubbed her cheek against the back, then did much of the same to his left hand.  
  
When she was done she looked up at him, and rose to her knees to cradle his face in her hands, kissing him gently. Then she was kissing his cheeks, his eyelids; kissing away tears he hadn’t realized were there.  
  
He took a shuddering breath and pulled her to him. She hugged him tightly, nuzzling his neck and stroking his spine. After a short sob he quieted, and was surprised to find he felt lighter. Some weight in his chest he had ceased to notice had eased.  
  
He pulled away enough that he could look at her again. “What spell do you use for that?” he asked. She laughed.  
  
“Maybe we can talk magical theory later,” she replied. He smiled, just a little, and kissed her as he lay her back down.  
  
He ran his hands over her skin – lightly, just in case – and finally began to explore between her legs.  
  
“Too rough?” he asked, when she gasped, but she shook her head, spreading her legs wider. Her reactions were all good, but Stephen still shook his head, angry at his failing strength.  
  
“I was exceptionally good at this, once upon a time,” he said. “Women said they had never felt anything like it – come so fast, or hard, or so many times…”  
  
She laughed. “No wonder your ego was out of control.”  
  
He frowned down at her. “Who says?”  
  
“I heard you on Radiolab once,” she said. “It was pretty obvious.”  
  
“Regardless…” His hand was shaking and he pulled it away from her with a frustrated sigh. She made a disappointed noise.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t have the strength, to say nothing of the dexterity.”  
  
She smiled at him. “Your hands aren’t the only way to please a woman, Stephen.”  
  
He kissed her, and moved lower, till his head was between her legs. He hesitated for a moment. He’d never done this as much – he was proud of the pleasure his fingers could wring, and it had rarely been necessary for more than a little foreplay – but, it wasn’t as though he had another option.  
  
She responded enthusiastically to his ministrations, and after he felt he’d teased her enough he licked faster. Soon her hips were rising and she was breathing hard.  
  
“Do you have the strength to put a few fingers inside me?” she asked. He wasn’t sure, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t do it anyway, so he made an assenting noise that made her gasp and eased two, then quickly three fingers inside her. The nerve damage made it more difficult to find her G-spot, but her body told him when he had it. He drank in her cries as she shuddered, drank in the feeling of her clenching around his fingers, god, it had been too long…  
  
He kept going, more gently, until he was sure her pleasure was complete. She tugged his shoulder and he looked up, wiping his mouth.  
  
“I can get you to two or three, I’m sure,” he said. She grinned but shook her head.  
  
“Later, maybe,” she replied. He sat up reluctantly, and she sat up too, pushing him from his knees back into a sitting position and straddling his hips.  
  
She grabbed his face and kissed him hard, nipping at his bottom lip, and ground against his cock, which had barely flagged when he was focusing on her pleasure and was certainly hard again. Stephen clutched at her shoulders, trying not the writhe with impatience as the kiss went on and on and on. It was good, yes – more than good – but he needed more. She barely let up for a second at a time before kissing him again, sliding her tongue into his mouth. Stephen’s hips bucked and he finally pulled his head back.  
  
“Please,” he said, and she grinned and unfastened his pants. When she wrapped a hand around his aching cock Stephen nearly cried out. God, her skin was so _soft_. He’d practically forgotten what that felt like. Her strokes were firm and sure and Stephen groaned. His hips jerked again and he grabbed her wrist, but she didn’t slow.  
  
“Wait,” he gasped. “Slow down – ” But she sped up.  
  
“Don’t worry,” she murmured in his ear, and Stephen closed his eyes, so helpless to the pleasure he was beyond caring if this was it. She kissed his neck and then bit it, sucking hard, and maybe there was some magic in that because Stephen found himself coming silently, gasping for air.  
  
It was intense, but less intense than he had anticipated, like it had only taken the edge off. She was still stroking his cock and he almost told her to stop, he would be too sensitive for awhile; but then he realized he wasn’t too sensitive, and he was still hard.  
  
“How – ” he started to asked.  
  
“I’m a sex witch. Did you really think I wouldn’t have ways to get around refraction time?” she said. He could hear the smirk in her voice. Damn her, wasn’t that _his_ brand?  
  
“So, you get to get me off twice, but I don’t get to do the same for you?” he asked. “How is that fair?”  
  
“Who said I was fair?” she said, grinning.  
  
She finally released his cock and Stephen kissed her hard. The orgasm, he decided, hadn’t so much taken the edge off as whetted his appetite, because all he could think about was being inside her. She kissed him back but pulled away quickly. She closed her eyes, head tilted back, and put her hands on his shoulders, then smoothed them slowly down his arms. Stephen felt something building low in his pelvis, arousal but more than arousal, and most definitely magic.  
  
“How – ” he started.  
  
“Magic theory _later_ ,” she said. “Why don’t you just try to enjoy this?” Stephen stared at the line of her throat in front of him and tried to decide if he should kiss it right now, but before he could make up his mind, she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted up out of his lap, just enough so she could slide down onto his cock.  
  
Stephen let out a low groan, head falling forward, burying his face in her neck. Oh, it had been so long, and it had never been like _this_. This hyperawareness of every place their bodies touched – not just his cock inside her but her breasts against his chest and her legs around his waist and her hands…Her hands were on the back of his neck and it felt like his spine was afire with pleasure. He needed to find out how to do this, no doubt about it. Even his hands felt more sensitive than usual, pressed to the small of her back, her soft skin so warm underneath them.  
  
She arched her back when he ran his fingers up her spine. She made a soft noise of pleasure and then her lips were on his in a fierce kiss and Stephen felt the fire in his spine spread throughout his body, hot and yet somehow soothing. He wanted to throw her down and fuck her as hard as he could; he wanted to barely move and let this go on for hours.  
  
When she pulled back and finally opened her eyes, they were glowing slightly. Stephen blinked a few times at the sight.  
  
“It’s just a side effect of the magic,” she said.  
  
“What causes it?” he couldn’t help asking.  
  
She laughed. “You’re incorrigible,” she said. “Do you ever turn your mind off?” She leaned forward to press kisses to his neck, and Stephen let his own eyes close, tried to relax and stop thinking like she wanted.  
  
“Not really,” he admitted. He considered for a moment. “Actually, that’s not true. When I did surgery. Or, sometimes, when I perform magic. I can still think, and I do, if I need to. But otherwise…”  
  
“You just do what needs to be done,” she murmured. “It’s a wonderful feeling, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yes,” Stephen replied, frowning in contemplation. “I suppose that’s why I loved being a surgeon. One of the reasons, anyway. And why, when I couldn’t do it anymore, I felt such despair.”  
  
“You thought you wouldn’t ever experience that peace again.” She kissed his temple. “That feeling of pure being.”  
  
“And then, I came here…”  
  
“And you discovered that there were other ways.” She smiled at him. Her eyes looked almost normal now.  
  
“You find it in sex magic?”  
  
“In all kinds of magic,” she said. “And I strive for it in my everyday life. But this is the easiest way for me.” She put her arms around his neck again and leaned back, raising and lowering herself on his cock a few times, making Stephen suck in a breath at the rush of pleasure. “The healing.”  
  
“Not the sex?”  
  
She opened her eyes again and smiled at him. “The sex, too,” she said. Stephen pulled her close and kissed her, wishing he trusted his fingers to get her off again; god, he’d loved the feeling of someone pulsing around his cock, knowing he’d brought them that pleasure. She broke the kiss after a moment and looked at him musingly, stroking his hair.  
  
“You’re getting distracted,” she said. “What is it?”  
  
He shook his head. “Nothing.”  
  
She tilted her head at him. “You don’t have to tell me with your words. You could open to me.”  
  
Her eyes were hypnotic. Were they glowing again? “What do you mean?”  
  
“Open your mind.”  
  
“You want to read my thoughts?”  
  
“Well, not exactly. Thoughts are often hard to pick out if they’re not directed at you, especially if you don’t know someone well. This would give me a sense of what you’re feeling, and you could choose what you wanted to share with me. Anything you don’t want me to know, you can imagine behind a solid black wall.”  
  
Stephen hesitated.  
  
“Of course,” she added, “it’s a two-way street, so you would be able to see into me, as well. I’ll go first, if you like.”  
  
Oh, this was _tempting_. A new kind of magic, and different kind of intimacy…He was less certain that he wanted the intimacy. But he was curious – who wouldn’t want to peer into another person’s mind? – and he felt like she was trustworthy.  
  
“All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll give it a try.”  
  
“Anytime you want to stop, just tell me, and I’ll break the connection,” she said.  
  
“What do I have to do?” Stephen asked, heart beating faster in some mix of excitement and nerves.  
  
“Just relax, and let me in.”  
  
She put her hands on his face, fingers resting on his temples, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and then leaned forward and kissed him.  
  
When their mouths opened to each other, Stephen felt like an invisible barrier had melted away, something he’d never been aware of but could certainly tell was gone.  
  
He didn’t see anything, but when he concentrated on her, he could feel what she was feeling – a low hum of arousal; a gentle, warm affection; sympathy that was not pity; a hint of amusement.  
  
“What’s so funny?” he said aloud.  
  
_Ask with your mind, Stephen._ Her voice echoed in his head, not his ears, and it threw him for a second.  
  
_All right, what’s so funny?_ he said.  
  
She laughed softly. _I enjoy you,_ she said.  
  
_Would you please explain to Wong that I’m funny?_  
  
She laughed again. _Wong is not easily amused._  
  
Even though he still suspected she was laughing _at_ him somewhat, there was something about the sincere affection he could feel from her which warmed Stephen, and made him feel warmly towards her. He kissed her suddenly, felt her surprise and pleasure as she kissed him back.  
  
“Were you going to tell me something?” she asked aloud when they came apart. She was looking at him carefully and she was still open; apprehensive she was going to push too far, kind and concerned and wanting very much to help…  
  
Stephen tried to laugh. “How could I say no to that?”  
  
She smiled very slightly. “You very easily could,” she said. “But I’d like to try to help.”  
  
He hesitated for another moment, and then he leaned in and kissed her again, letting her see. The pain, the grief, the despair, the lingering doubt...He opened the floodgates and let it all out at once. Which, he realized, was probably a mistake, as he felt tears start in his eyes for the third time that night.  
  
Her arms were around him and her healing magic seemed to enfold his mind. He buried his face in her neck, trying to hide as much as seeking comfort; aware that there was no hiding unless he told her to stop, that he was more naked than he’d ever been. He was suddenly in an agony of embarrassment; what had he been _thinking_ , to agree to this?  
  
_It’s all right._ Even her mental voice was somehow soft. Her hand was in his hair, gentle lips on his temple, that warm acceptance and something like love enveloping his mind – not a romantic love, not exactly; a deep compassion for all creatures in pain, and right at that moment, most especially for Stephen…  
  
_Do you want to stop?_ she asked. Stephen shook his head. Helplessness had never felt so safe, and with a sharp exhale he forced himself to stop fighting and surrender to the current. He sobbed into her skin, and she stroked his back and softly murmured his name, and somehow he was still hard inside her – more of her magic, surely – and she rocked in his lap, slightly rocking him and mixing the pleasure of moving inside her with the warmth of her healing magic in his mind.  
  
Gradually the flood of feeling abated, soothed in the gentle healing of her energy. When he stopped crying and lifted his head, she was already handing him tissues. He laughed slightly, wiping his eyes. When he could see clearly again, he realized her skin was glowing. He blinked, watery eyes making it look like she had a hazy nimbus around here.  
  
“That’s…” He touched her cheek gently with a couple shaking fingers. _Beautiful,_ he thought.  
  
_Thank you_ , she said. He flushed.  
  
_I forgot…I don’t know how I could possibly have forgotten, but…_  
  
She kissed him gently. “Time to stop?”  
  
He nodded. “I…I think so. Yes. Thank you.”  
  
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  
  
The barrier was back. Stephen exhaled. It was a relief, not to feel so exposed.  
  
And, it was a disappointment. He looked at her. The glow had dimmed and was nearly gone.  
  
“It takes a moment to get used to being alone again,” she said softly. “But we’re still connected.” She kissed him hard, and Stephen didn’t try to suppress the moan that rose to his lips. Her hand was on the back of his neck, flooding him again with sensual magic that felt somehow fiercer than before. Suddenly he was aching with desire and he grabbed her hips, trying to thrust up into her.  
  
She grinned. “Lie me down,” she said, wrapping her arms around Stephen and holding on tightly.  
  
He complied. Her legs were around his waist and he groaned as he started moving, hips snapping a few quick times before he got himself under control.  
  
“I need you to teach me how you do this,” he murmured.  
  
“Do what?” she asked, grinning.  
  
He kissed her neck, and she gave a pleased hum. “How you feel so…how you make _everything_ feel so good.”  
  
She laughed. “Stop thinking,” she reminded him. Her hands were pressed to his shoulder blades and pleasure flowed through his body. Stephen’s breath caught and he started moving in her again, drinking in her moans and gasps.  
  
Despite his eagerness, it was easy to take it slow, letting the intensity build for long minutes, gradually increasing his pace until he was thrusting with abandon and they were both gasping. She held onto him tightly and breathed his name, hitting him again with her magic, and Stephen came with a strangled cry. She was coming too, surprising him and intensifying his pleasure as she contracted around him. It seemed to go on and on, but finally he was spent.  
  
He rolled off her onto his side and immediately pulled her in close to him, feeling oddly protective and unsure where the feeling had some from. _He’d_ been the vulnerable one, and she’d shown no signs of distress. _You know she must be tired, after all that magic,_ he thought. That made some sense, at least.  
  
Touching her still felt good, but it was a comfort now, not arousing, now that he was sated. She was kissing his chest, making him smile.  
  
“Are you all right?” he asked.  
  
She laughed. “You heard me. Didn’t I sound like I was all right?”  
  
Stephen grinned. “I suppose so. Was that magic too, or a…natural ability?”  
  
He could hear the amusement in her voice. “Magic. I shared your orgasm, basically.”  
  
“Neat trick.”  
  
“No kidding.”  
  
He laughed, and after that they fell silent for a few minutes. Stephen waited to get drowsy as he absently stroked her hair, but although he felt languid and contented, he was still perfectly alert.  
  
“I suppose I wasn’t entirely over the trauma,” he said suddenly.  
  
“No kidding,” she repeated, sounding amused. He smiled.  
  
“All right, all right,” he said. She looked up at him, expression serious.  
  
“You’re still not,” she said. “My magic can’t wipe that away. It can ease pain for a time, and help you start to find a way through it, but it’s not a panacea.”  
  
He nodded. “It’s never that easy.”  
  
“No, it never is, is it?”  
  
“I don’t suppose you offer weekly sessions of this.”  
  
She laughed. “No. I’m not a psychiatrist. And I have too much work of my own to do this all the time.”  
  
Stephen sighed. “I thought as much.”  
  
“But…” He looked down at her. A one-sided smile quirked the corner of her lips. “I could probably be convinced to help you out a little every now and again.”  
  
He grinned. “Could you?”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“And teach me how to do what you do?”  
  
She laughed. “I can try.”  
  
He leaned down and kissed her warmly. _Good,_ he thought.  
  
He _was_ getting drowsy now, and he thought later that he had probably imagined hearing her say _Yes, good,_ in his mind before he fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Vienna Teng song "Level Up," which is a beautiful song of h/c feels for me and feels particularly apt for Stephen.


End file.
